lilac;

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered to yourself; your words a messy, hurried mantra as you tried everything all at once. You pulled at the door handles; you tried to rotate yourself right around to force your heels against the windows, kicking them repeatedly, and though no alarm went off, nothing budged either.

Then, as you were in the midst of thrashing, a panel in the back gave out, its clanging against the van floor so loud it forced you to pause. You chanced retreated back there anyway, because what if? Slipping through the panel was easy work; it was just big enough to fit you. You pulled yourself through it, landing right on your hands and knees, coughing from the impact. Goodness. It was dusty back there.

When your vision adjusted to the darker stretch of the vehicle, you made the observation that the double-sided door was not locked properly, or at the very least, that it was damaged. A faint gap allowed a small amount of light to pass through. Towards the side of the vehicle, you spotted the glint of a gardening tool that appeared to be a rake tossed onto the flooring. You found yourself scrambling towards it with a surge of desperation, moving the teeth of the tool at an angle, then leaning against the handle with all of your might until you heard something creak.

You found yourself praying to yourself that you would get out of this somehow. For the most part, it seemed to be working, too. You felt great as it happened. What was this feeling? Adrenaline, maybe? You simply refused to accept the direction you were trapped in. You were not something to be stolen and then kept away from the world. You wanted to live and be free, and above all, be the one in control of it!

The metal began to crack open, but then just as it did, the wooden length of the handle began to split.

You ended up landing face-first onto the grimy surface, a broken, bitter, if not hysterical laugh escaping you as you did. The rest of you broke into tears, unable to grasp the absurdity of it all, and yet, understanding all the same that, of course, it was never going to be that easy.

Surely, though, this… this couldn’t have been it?

Just as quickly as the motivation appeared, it vanished within a split second, replacing itself with a horrible, profound sense of failure that rooted right into you.

God, to think that you risked Shoko to change nothing at all.

~~~

Choso left you in the van reluctantly, coming to stare at the brick wall that faced him as soon as he had stepped out. Things had gotten far too complicated, he could admit that, and yet, if he wanted to succeed, he knew that it wasn’t ever going to be as simple as he had planned it out in his head. People would eventually ask questions about your appearance, and oftentimes, they started with people like their neighbours. He knew that if it came around to that, he would fold right away.

Though another part of himself forced him to start walking towards the direction of the park anyway, his limbs feeling stiff as he did so. His jaw clenched tightly, and just once, he paused when he heard a struggle break out where he had left you behind. The front of the interior would hold, so that much was fine. As long as you gave up and stayed where you were. Honestly, the threat of putting you in the back was largely a bluff. It was the one spot where it risked going wrong. The van in itself was just good enough—but barely—for what it was, but that thing was falling apart.

He forced himself to march on faster, just to get back to you sooner. The area was a bit out of the way, and he knew that he would likely not get away with anything too rash out in the open. Every now and then, a sound from further away in the area would carry over to where he was, and he would jump, which already painted an anxious picture. Any hint of a struggle from where he was might be heard not too far away. Besides that, he dreaded to imagine what that friend of yours might clock him as. If she saw through him right away, and as he approached what must have been her, something even stranger happened.

He… froze. He tried to speak, but couldn’t, finding that his words died in his throat when he tried. Something about his plan to remove obstacles that prevented him from being together with you was something he struggled with deeper down. He even tried lifting both of his hands to imagine the possibility of strangling her on a whim, but the sensation that followed must have been a phantom one, since his limbs did not budge.

He forced himself to say something once more, though his voice still sounded quiet. If Shoko wasn’t on edge, she might not have heard him.

“Shoko, right?” he mumbled out.

Shoko turned around, narrowing her eyes at the sight of the nervous wreck before her. She leaned in—reluctantly—to catch what was barely heard. “Yeah,” she replied with a more level tone. “Is she okay?” she asked, cutting to the chase right away. “It’s not like her to disappear.”

Choso forced a laugh out in an attempt to lower the tension, hoping to convey that everything was fine. “Yeah, she’s okay. She just needed some time away from all of the stress,” he tried to say, his words far from convincing. His fingers pulled at his sleeves as he spoke, not quite understanding why he felt so nervous around her, and calmer around you. Perhaps it was because he hated this idea in particular. He did not want to hurt you, and getting rid of this person that you cared about would be doing that.

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “Even so,” she caught, crossing her arms, resisting the urge to pull a cigarette out from her pocket to mask her own anxiety, “she wouldn’t just leave without letting me know. She wouldn’t send someone else to speak for her either. I know her.”

“I’m also close to her,” Choso lied. “We’re old friends,” he tried to add, not yet disclosing the true nature of their relationship, even though Shoko must have known. The text he sent was a futile attempt at best; she likely understood what she was getting into from the moment she received it. “She’s just a bit overwhelmed with everything, and she’ll be back soon.”

Shoko silently scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching. “Old friends?” she repeated in a disbelieving tone. “Oh, that’s funny. She told me she grew up quite alone, and she doesn’t seem like the type to lie.”

Shoko took a wary step back as she spoke, her posture becoming less open and far more guarded.

“And,” she continued, “close?” she repeated once more, trying to deduce everything he was giving her. “Do you know what her major is?” she asked, largely as a question of security. If he knew you, then he should know that little thing.

Choso gulped nervously, but his eyes darkened considerably. Irritation started to surface, causing him to feel erratic. He was one hundred percent certain that this person knew what he was up to, hence why she was so quick to interrogate him, and as such, felt something regretful rising from within him. He tried to hold back because again, he didn't want to hurt you, and that meant mentally just as much as it did physically.

He risked you hating him even more if he lost his temper, but that would be only if you ever found out.

“Sure do,” he confirmed, then before she could grill him further, he asked her just as quickly, “Do you?”

Shoko took a step back, and he took a step forward.

“I could take you to see her if you’d like,” he offered, his words landing steadier now, “prove to you that she’s just fine.”

Shoko, however, just stared at him, her eyes wandering around just once or twice to scan the park. It wasn’t crowded, but the distant sounds proved that at least some parts were at the very least occupied. She knew that following him would be a mistake, even if there were witnesses.

“Sure, if she meets me at our usual spot,” she replied very carefully. “She’ll know where.”

Choso forced a stiff smile. “Sounds good,” he said, his voice a little too calm. “I’ll go back then and let her know that you’re willing to meet her if she’s up for it at all.”

“Right,” Shoko agreed, watching him turn to leave and walk a considerable number of steps away from her before she started to do the same, but then she stopped when she could no longer hear his footsteps. A shudder ran through her spine as she started to turn around, but before she knew it, warm hands found their way around both her face to silence any screams and something more solid wrapped right around her throat, squeezing the life from her.

She thrashed as much as she could, but to get out of this alive, she needed a miracle.

~~~

Back in the van, after what seemed like forever of messing around with the faulty lock and the tiny gap between the doors, something finally gave out. You ended up stumbling out onto the concrete as it happened, landing roughly onto the concrete just outside, grazing your knees in the process. The area he had you in was desolate, but not fully.

You looked around, feeling the adrenaline return, feeling the sudden, horrible urge to bolt.

At least while you still could.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered to yourself; your words a messy, hurried mantra as you tried everything all at once. You pulled at the door handles; you tried to rotate yourself right around to force your heels against the windows, kicking them repeatedly, and though no alarm went off, nothing budged either.

Then, as you were in the midst of thrashing, a panel in the back gave out, its clanging against the van floor so loud it forced you to pause. You chanced retreated back there anyway, because what if? Slipping through the panel was easy work; it was just big enough to fit you. You pulled yourself through it, landing right on your hands and knees, coughing from the impact. Goodness. It was dusty back there.

When your vision adjusted to the darker stretch of the vehicle, you made the observation that the double-sided door was not locked properly, or at the very least, that it was damaged. A faint gap allowed a small amount of light to pass through. Towards the side of the vehicle, you spotted the glint of a gardening tool that appeared to be a rake tossed onto the flooring. You found yourself scrambling towards it with a surge of desperation, moving the teeth of the tool at an angle, then leaning against the handle with all of your might until you heard something creak.

You found yourself praying to yourself that you would get out of this somehow. For the most part, it seemed to be working, too. You felt great as it happened. What was this feeling? Adrenaline, maybe? You simply refused to accept the direction you were trapped in. You were not something to be stolen and then kept away from the world. You wanted to live and be free, and above all, be the one in control of it!

The metal began to crack open, but then just as it did, the wooden length of the handle began to split.

You ended up landing face-first onto the grimy surface, a broken, bitter, if not hysterical laugh escaping you as you did. The rest of you broke into tears, unable to grasp the absurdity of it all, and yet, understanding all the same that, of course, it was never going to be that easy.

Surely, though, this… this couldn’t have been it?

Just as quickly as the motivation appeared, it vanished within a split second, replacing itself with a horrible, profound sense of failure that rooted right into you.

God, to think that you risked Shoko to change nothing at all.

~~~

Choso left you in the van reluctantly, coming to stare at the brick wall that faced him as soon as he had stepped out. Things had gotten far too complicated, he could admit that, and yet, if he wanted to succeed, he knew that it wasn’t ever going to be as simple as he had planned it out in his head. People would eventually ask questions about your appearance, and oftentimes, they started with people like their neighbours. He knew that if it came around to that, he would fold right away.

Though another part of himself forced him to start walking towards the direction of the park anyway, his limbs feeling stiff as he did so. His jaw clenched tightly, and just once, he paused when he heard a struggle break out where he had left you behind. The front of the interior would hold, so that much was fine. As long as you gave up and stayed where you were. Honestly, the threat of putting you in the back was largely a bluff. It was the one spot where it risked going wrong. The van in itself was just good enough—but barely—for what it was, but that thing was falling apart.

He forced himself to march on faster, just to get back to you sooner. The area was a bit out of the way, and he knew that he would likely not get away with anything too rash out in the open. Every now and then, a sound from further away in the area would carry over to where he was, and he would jump, which already painted an anxious picture. Any hint of a struggle from where he was might be heard not too far away. Besides that, he dreaded to imagine what that friend of yours might clock him as. If she saw through him right away, and as he approached what must have been her, something even stranger happened.

He… froze. He tried to speak, but couldn’t, finding that his words died in his throat when he tried. Something about his plan to remove obstacles that prevented him from being together with you was something he struggled with deeper down. He even tried lifting both of his hands to imagine the possibility of strangling her on a whim, but the sensation that followed must have been a phantom one, since his limbs did not budge.

He forced himself to say something once more, though his voice still sounded quiet. If Shoko wasn’t on edge, she might not have heard him.

“Shoko, right?” he mumbled out.

Shoko turned around, narrowing her eyes at the sight of the nervous wreck before her. She leaned in—reluctantly—to catch what was barely heard. “Yeah,” she replied with a more level tone. “Is she okay?” she asked, cutting to the chase right away. “It’s not like her to disappear.”

Choso forced a laugh out in an attempt to lower the tension, hoping to convey that everything was fine. “Yeah, she’s okay. She just needed some time away from all of the stress,” he tried to say, his words far from convincing. His fingers pulled at his sleeves as he spoke, not quite understanding why he felt so nervous around her, and calmer around you. Perhaps it was because he hated this idea in particular. He did not want to hurt you, and getting rid of this person that you cared about would be doing that.

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “Even so,” she caught, crossing her arms, resisting the urge to pull a cigarette out from her pocket to mask her own anxiety, “she wouldn’t just leave without letting me know. She wouldn’t send someone else to speak for her either. I know her.”

“I’m also close to her,” Choso lied. “We’re old friends,” he tried to add, not yet disclosing the true nature of their relationship, even though Shoko must have known. The text he sent was a futile attempt at best; she likely understood what she was getting into from the moment she received it. “She’s just a bit overwhelmed with everything, and she’ll be back soon.”

Shoko silently scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching. “Old friends?” she repeated in a disbelieving tone. “Oh, that’s funny. She told me she grew up quite alone, and she doesn’t seem like the type to lie.”

Shoko took a wary step back as she spoke, her posture becoming less open and far more guarded.

“And,” she continued, “close?” she repeated once more, trying to deduce everything he was giving her. “Do you know what her major is?” she asked, largely as a question of security. If he knew you, then he should know that little thing.

Choso gulped nervously, but his eyes darkened considerably. Irritation started to surface, causing him to feel erratic. He was one hundred percent certain that this person knew what he was up to, hence why she was so quick to interrogate him, and as such, felt something regretful rising from within him. He tried to hold back because again, he didn't want to hurt you, and that meant mentally just as much as it did physically.

He risked you hating him even more if he lost his temper, but that would be only if you ever found out.

“Sure do,” he confirmed, then before she could grill him further, he asked her just as quickly, “Do you?”

Shoko took a step back, and he took a step forward.

“I could take you to see her if you’d like,” he offered, his words landing steadier now, “prove to you that she’s just fine.”

Shoko, however, just stared at him, her eyes wandering around just once or twice to scan the park. It wasn’t crowded, but the distant sounds proved that at least some parts were at the very least occupied. She knew that following him would be a mistake, even if there were witnesses.

“Sure, if she meets me at our usual spot,” she replied very carefully. “She’ll know where.”

Choso forced a stiff smile. “Sounds good,” he said, his voice a little too calm. “I’ll go back then and let her know that you’re willing to meet her if she’s up for it at all.”

“Right,” Shoko agreed, watching him turn to leave and walk a considerable number of steps away from her before she started to do the same, but then she stopped when she could no longer hear his footsteps. A shudder ran through her spine as she started to turn around, but before she knew it, warm hands found their way around both her face to silence any screams and something more solid wrapped right around her throat, squeezing the life from her.

She thrashed as much as she could, but to get out of this alive, she needed a miracle.

~~~

Back in the van, after what seemed like forever of messing around with the faulty lock and the tiny gap between the doors, something finally gave out. You ended up stumbling out onto the concrete as it happened, landing roughly onto the concrete just outside, grazing your knees in the process. The area he had you in was desolate, but not fully.

You looked around, feeling the adrenaline return, feeling the sudden, horrible urge to bolt.

At least while you still could.

At your cooperation, Choso let out a drawn-out, slow breath. Relief softened his face, which then melted into a wide smile, forcing the mark on his middle to wrinkle.

“Good,” he said, leaning back a little, not too far, but just enough to give you room to breathe. Then, he asked something that made you feel uneasy again. The brief show of space was a trap, after all. “How about me more about her?” he asked.

Your throat went dry. “More?”

Choso laughed even though it took a moment for his rehearsed smile to catch up, though it couldn’t have done anything to help. The whole situation he had you in was terrifying.

“Well, for example,” he started, reaching into his pockets to retrieve your phone that you so desperately wanted to reunite with. “Do you have any pictures of her on here?”

You gulped thickly, resisting the urge to lunge for the device and thrash around until it called someone, somehow, somewhere. Though if you understood anything about him from how he intercepted you earlier, you knew that your chances weren’t too hot. The fight was already lost in your mind before you could consider the outcome.

For the time being, therefore, you forced yourself to remain still and deeply consider each action and reaction. If he was going to take you out of this awful basement, then that much was at least something. It was better for now to make him think that you were, at the very least, capable of cooperating. You benefited far more from listening and doing as he asked, saving your strength for when it would be potentially needed.

Still, a darker thought surfaced, and it was one that you couldn’t quite ignore.

You couldn’t help but ask, “What… what are you going to do with the information I give you?”

At your query, Choso’s smile dropped for a moment. His eyes went vacant as if he had lost focus, his thumb briefly catching on the screen of your phone, lighting it up before it all went dark again. He exhaled a second later, though not so sharply. It sounded a little as if he was trying to hold himself back from a certain kind of reaction.

“Nothing bad,” he tried to say in an even, light tone. “I just want her to understand that you’re safe. That’s all.”

His eyes then drifted back to yours, searching the depths for understanding.

“Unless,” he caught, understanding the implication of your question, “you think I’m that bad?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head, quick to deny what you had almost admitted. There was nothing wrong with your question, though, you thought. You were just being a cautious friend who wanted to ensure the safe outcome of the person you were potentially compromising. Even considering dragging Shoko into this mess was already a tough decision, but there was no right or wrong way to react in the face of danger. You had no idea what you were supposed to do otherwise.

“No, hopefully not,” you replied, your voice taking on a shaky edge. “It’s just… I don’t want to worry her more than I already have,” you insisted, trying to forge a lie that sounded believable. “She’s been on my case for not studying so much as of late, and I do have that test coming up, so maybe to drop the issue, I could go back and—”

“Oh, no,” Choso intercepted you. “No need to worry about that anymore.”

Your voice died in your throat as you met him with a look of confusion. “I don’t?” you replied after a half-minute of silence. “I won’t… be going back home at all?”

Choso tipped his head back to look at the ceiling for a moment. He knew what you were asking based on the uncertainty in your tone, and it wasn’t that you were confused about going home or not, but asking why not, just unable to voice it. He had, he knew, gone about this whole mess a way he shouldn’t have. If he had been more patient or more sociable, he might have been able to approach you organically and build his affection for you from something solid, but he didn’t.

So, instead of replying, he just cast his gaze upon you, trying to get a read on you. He wanted to believe you were cooperating because you wanted to and because you saw the good in him, but your earlier question had already painted him in a certain light. He knew that you going along with what he said or did was not out of your free will, but a sense of self-preservation, and he knew above all, that he should be cautious to trust you, but he couldn’t help himself in how he saw you.

He lowered his head at last. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised, even though he knew that much was a lie. Your friend was an obstacle; she had to go. “I just want to clear some things up, then she can go.”

You bit down hard on the side of your cheek, struggling to take his words as truth as well. Shoko would immediately be able to tell that there was something off about him; you were certain about that, even if she had no idea what he looked like.

Besides that point, you didn’t want to put her life in danger by exposing her to this man.

Though she was still your closest chance of escape, because if you couldn’t get yourself out of this, then maybe she could.

Maybe she could use her quick wit to know what to do.

~~~

The actual disclosure of her details took longer than you both expected, mostly because your mind kept going quiet. When you were finally ready to surrender the information, Choso had to wait for a while before you managed to force the words out. He understood why you couldn’t just blurt it all out, though, in which you were likely terrified. He tried to be patient in that right, considering he was the cause of the problem. Though he wished that you would hurry up, of course, so he could resolve the issue sooner.

In the end, though, you managed to sell her out. You gave him the passcode to your phone and a vague description of who to single out of your followers on a photo-sharing app. After all, you didn’t have any photos of her like he initially wanted. Your camera roll was full of pictures of your drinks that you had on the way to class, cats you met on the street and a few silly pictures you had found online.

Choso stared at the profile for a long time as soon as he got it.

“What’s your texting style?” he then asked, hopeful that you would continue your cooperation.

You didn’t like that he wanted to trick her into thinking you were reaching out. The initial idea was that he would take you out with no questions asked, or so you thought. So what was this? You wanted to be taken to her, outside, not do whatever this was.

Still, you reluctantly muttered out certain snippets that could make the message sound convincing. You told him to not use line breaks or short, frantic messages, because you had a tendency of overthinking and preferred to group up your words into something that could be understood all at once. It was a weird self assessment, but it was the truth.

The whole time, though, all you could think about was whether or not she could easily get away from him should this all go south.

Or if she would hate you for luring her in.

Maybe she would understand, though. Sometimes it felt easier to reach out for something familiar than something immediately obvious, like the authorities. Maybe she could tip someone else off before meeting with him at all. A little memory surfaced as you considered all this when she said that she’s surprisingly good at singling out red flags because of who her friends were in high school. One, she described as a total arrogant ass, but his redeeming quality, that the cocky guys she might encounter during university, trying to impress her, was that he was a huge empath. Conversely, she also had a friend who was the exact opposite. A quiet and broody type who went through a rough patch, but the difference between him and the other performatively moody men she had met on campus was that she understood the layers that made him—him.

Maybe then she would see past Choso’s attempt and not buy into the deceptively kind and calm voice that he tried to put on.

Perhaps, also, she would be cautious from the start, because your disappearance was likely sudden and unusual, and now you would be reaching out, asking to meet somewhere isolated and strange.

Though Choso, for his part, did follow your instructions to the finest detail, even if he did grow increasingly frustrated when she kept on only choosing populated areas. Eventually, though, the two of them agreed to meet at a park, apparently. A large, inner-city one. It could either be crowded or isolated, depending on where they’d end up. For Choso, it was sort of ideal. The parking situation at that particular point wasn’t great, which meant that he could keep you hidden and lure her towards you, if needed.

And so, come the next day, when dusk barely broke through, Choso indeed pulled you out of the dark basement. You had fallen asleep by some miracle and had barely even noticed as he carried you away in his arms, only coming back to wakefulness when you heard something click and tighten around you and the loud hum of an engine igniting.

“You’re calm?” he asked in a reassuring murmur, buckling himself into the driver’s side of a van he had taken you off to. “It won’t be a long ride.”

Though as he spoke, and you came around with a heavy yawn, your body went into fight or flight mode at the sudden change of environment. Your reaction was not your choice, and you didn’t like the feeling of confinement after knowing fully well that you were essentially abducted. You reacted by thrashing around in the seat, pressing your palms against the window and knocking on the glass.

Choso just clicked his tongue, supposing he should have seen that coming.

“That won’t help,” he said, “mostly because we haven’t gone anywhere yet.”

You tried to stop then, but still couldn’t.

“But, if you make this difficult for me, then I might need to keep you, um, in the back,” he revealed, very hesitantly. He didn’t like that he kept having to resort to even more things that would frighten you.

That did the trick. The back? The back of what? You turned your head slightly, noticing the cold space behind you. An even bleaker spot where he could drive you back and forth to all sorts of dreadful situations. Everything about this situation was nightmarish, and you had missed the apprehension in his tone, hearing it as calmness instead, further feeding into the fear you felt. Calm? You could be calm. You could be very calm if he needed you to be. Anything but the back of this thing.

Choso gave you a moment to gather your bearings before pulling out of the road and driving where he needed to go. You tried to keep awake after the initial panic, but sleep took you on the drive. It was warm in the van, and the road was lightly bumpy.

Though when you next woke up, you found that you were parked in a cramped, isolated spot.

You couldn’t help but ask, your voice hesitant and unsure, “Where are we?”

Choso kept his hands on the wheel, staring up ahead. “Just… going to leave you here for a moment as I go to sort things out,” he tried to explain. “The windows are, uh, tainted, so nobody should see inside.”

Then, he reached out to the side, and for a brief, delusional moment, you thought that he was just adjusting something, or letting himself out, but then he presented you with a rope and a roll of duct tape.

“To keep you in place,” he tried to say.

Your heart dropped at the sight.

“N-no need for that,” you immediately refused, trying to back away towards the far side of the van where you sat. “I won’t leave.”

Choso’s grip on the items tightened, then relaxed again.

“I really want to believe you,” he said, sounding apologetic.

“Please do,” you almost whimpered, feeling the internalised panic claw up and rise from within you. “Please. I’ll be good. In exchange for Shoko being okay?”

Choso hesitated again, knowing he needed to make a decision soon.

(Further explanation because of the text limit in polls—)

Option 1: Shoko might not fall into danger if we manage to force our way out of the van, because we’re not tied up